


Need and Desolation

by carolinecrane



Series: Devotion [11]
Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joxer's reaction to the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need and Desolation

“It was you?”

He was vaguely aware of the sound of his own voice, but he didn’t even know what he was asking. He could still feel the press of lips against his own, the familiar touch he should have forgotten after fifteen long years. It was a lifetime ago that he’d last felt that kiss, but even if he hadn’t heard Ares’ whispered confession he would have known the moment their lips touched.

Slowly he pulled his fingers away from his mouth, reaching out without thinking to trace the curve of the god’s jaw. _His_ god; the god he’d worshipped for so long not because he was strong enough to be a great warrior or coordinated enough to fight the way Xena did, but because it had always felt natural to pray to Ares. And he knew why now; Ares had been his closest friend for as long as he could remember, his first love and the one person he could count on to understand him when no one else did.

“But how…why?” he heard himself whisper, his eyes darting away from the curve of the other man’s mouth to search for answers in Ares’ dark eyes. Nothing made sense; his world hadn’t made sense since the day Aphrodite told him Timo was dead, and now that he knew Timo had never died at all he was more confused than ever.

“You,” he breathed before Ares had a chance to answer, his mind racing with a thousand different questions. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but he knew he’d never be able to find the words. It was confusing and exhilarating and yet not altogether surprising to discover that the connection he thought he’d imagined between them was real, that it meant something and even more astounding, that Ares felt it too. He felt a hand close around his, strong fingers molding to his to pull his hand gently away from Ares’ face. And he knew he should be asking a whole host of questions, but all he really wanted to do was kiss Ares again, just to make sure this was all real and he wasn’t going to wake up any second cramped and shivering from sleeping on the ground. Part of him expected to wake up from this dream at any moment and find himself in a clearing outside of Thebes, Xena and Gabrielle breathing softly on the other side of a slowly dying fire. It was the only way any of this would make sense, because there was no reality in which Ares could possibly want him, let alone love him.

Before he knew it he was on his knees, his free hand on Ares’ shoulder to steady himself as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together for the second time. Only it was far from the second time; he’d lost count of their kisses ages ago, somewhere between that first, awkward kiss and the first afternoon that Timo had slowly undressed him for the first time. There was experience in those hands even then, a knowledge that Joxer had never asked about because he hadn’t wanted to know. He’d wanted to believe he was as safe with Timo as he’d always felt, so he’d never asked questions about where he got the food he always brought with him or why he touched Joxer as though he knew what he was doing.

Now he knew that it was because Timo did know what he was doing; he’d had over a hundred years of experience, fathered children Joxer probably didn’t even know about, seen and done things that Joxer had no hope of ever understanding. He was a god, and in all the time they’d spent together he’d never once said a word about his real identity. He’d let Joxer ramble endlessly about what Olympus must be like – even what Ares himself must be like – and he’d never given any sign that he was playing a role.

It was a struggle to pull away from that soft, familiar mouth, from the arms wrapped securely around him and holding him tight against a broad chest. It took every ounce of strength in him to push Ares away again, and even then he knew he’d only managed to pull away because Ares had allowed it. He was defenseless against any god, and the god sitting less than a foot away from him was one of the most powerful in the pantheon.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his fingers twitching against his thighs as he struggled against his body’s need to get as close as possible to the man he hadn’t been able to forget no matter how hard he’d tried. “How could it have been you? I watched him grow up – I talked to him almost every day. I…I touched him. He was real.”

Ares reached up to trace the curve of his jaw, his thumb stroking a soothing pattern across Joxer’s skin, and gods, he wanted to lean into that touch. It would be so easy to lose himself in it, to accept whatever explanation Ares offered or even stop it completely with another kiss. Part of him wanted nothing more than to feel for awhile, to give in to what his body and heart demanded and ignore all the questions nagging at him. Ares was already speaking, though, and as soon as Joxer heard his voice again he knew it wouldn’t be that easy to forget.

“Gods don’t face the same physical limitations as humans,” Ares said, his voice taking on a soothing quality that maybe no one except Joxer had ever heard. He knew it well, though; so well that he could close his eyes and imagine it was Timo speaking to him in a not-quite-whisper, Timo’s fingers ghosting across his cheekbone as he spoke. “We can disguise ourselves as we see fit; take on the shape of an enemy, a trusted lover, even a ten-year-old boy.”

"But why?" He was trembling now, pulling away from Ares' touch to stand up and wrap thin arms around his chest in a desperate attempt at control. Even once he was far away from Ares' body heat he couldn't stop himself from shaking, though, and the only thing that kept him standing was the need to know why. Why Ares had taken an interest in a defenseless little boy, and why he'd kept up the charade for six years. It must have seemed like no time at all to a god, but to Joxer it was a lifetime worth of wonderful memories. Memories that would be tarnished forever by the fact that it had all been the whim of a god. "Why didn't you tell me? Why let me believe he'd died? I tried to kill my own father because you said…"

He trailed off, relentlessly forcing down a sob because he was not going to cry and make things worse. It was bad enough that he'd fallen for Ares twice now, once right here in Aphrodite's garden, and once when he didn't even know who he was falling in love with. He'd been a fool for the gods' entertainment for long enough, and he wasn't about to give Ares the satisfaction of watching him fall apart now.

"You were just a child, Joxer," Ares said, taking a step toward the other man. He flinched when Joxer moved backwards, but he stopped and let out a resigned sigh. "I saw you in my temple and I was curious. I could hardly appear to you as myself, I would have frightened you more than that old priest already had. So I disguised myself as a boy, someone you'd trust instinctively. I never intended it to go past that first meeting."

Joxer knew it shouldn't hurt to hear those words. Ares had lied to him; for all he knew they'd all lied to him; Aphrodite, Cupid, even Strife. He'd learned to trust them so quickly, and as much as he told himself not to get used to it he knew it would be hard to go back to Greece after spending so much time as Love's guest. The idea that they'd all known all along that he'd been a fool all this time…that was too much, it was worse than Gabrielle's impatience or even Xena's dismissing all of his attempts to learn to be a stronger warrior. It hurt more than knowing that his own parents had never really wanted him, even more than learning that it had been his own brother who betrayed him when they were sixteen. Knowing all his new friends had lied to him was a bigger betrayal than Jett telling their father about Joxer and Timo, but knowing that Ares had lied to him was the biggest betrayal of all.

"You lied," Joxer said, his voice rough with the effort to hold back all the emotions fighting for control. "You let me believe…I wanted to die, Ares. And for what? For a lie."

"No. It wasn't a lie, not the parts that mattered. I let you believe that he…that I was dead because I wanted to spare you any more pain. I hoped if you thought Timo was gone that you could get on with your own life."

He could tell that part of Ares really wanted to believe that, but knowing that didn't make him feel any less betrayed. It didn't take away the hurt or the humiliation, and it didn't give him back the one thing he'd longed for his whole life. It didn't change the fact that Ares had made him fall in love with someone who didn't even exist, and it didn't erase the knowledge that everything they were to each other was because Ares had taken pity on a weak, lonely little boy. They'd never been the kindred spirits Joxer had always thought they were; he was only a mortal, someone for Ares to watch over and occasionally use for his own amusement.

That thought made Joxer's stomach pitch violently, and he found himself backing toward the door that led out of the garden. "You were right about one thing," Joxer said, ignoring the tremble in his voice and forcing himself to hold Ares' gaze. "Timo is dead. You killed him."

"Joxer, wait," Ares said, moving forward with a quiet grace that Joxer finally recognized as the same grace he'd admired in Timo years before. "Please…wait. You're wrong, he's not dead. I'm still that boy, the body is different but everything else is the same."

Something about the way Ares said the word 'please' made Joxer's heart twist painfully, and he sucked in a sharp breath and turned away from the other man. All he could do was shake his head, because he was afraid that if he tried to answer with words that he'd find himself giving in. Part of him wanted to stay, to listen to the explanation he was almost sure Ares had prepared. He wanted to believe whatever Ares said, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried, part of him would doubt whatever he heard. Ares had lied to him almost his entire life, there was no way he could put his trust in that again.

He was nearly to the door, his back to Ares and his shoulders squared defiantly, when he felt a strong hand close around his arm. He knew it was only a fraction of Ares' strength, but he still winced when he felt himself suddenly pressed flat against the heavy wooden door and facing a frustrated god of War. "There are things you don't understand," Ares said, anger and something else flashing in his eyes.

"I understand everything I need to," Joxer answered. He expected to sound frightened, for his voice to break on the words or maybe to fail him completely, but he sounded surprisingly calm.

"I could force you to stay."

Just for a second Joxer found himself wishing that Ares would hold him there against his will, that he'd wrap Joxer in strong arms and flash them back to his own temple where no one would be able to get to them until they'd worked everything out one way or another. The rest of him was still too hurt and confused to make sense of anything, though, and he knew if he stayed it would only make things worse. He'd already said things that hurt them both, and looking at Ares and knowing he was the same person Joxer had been mourning was too much.

His eyes flooded with tears, but he blinked them back mercilessly and reached up with the hand that wasn't pinned down to wipe at the burning in his eyes. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as well as he could under Ares' firm grip, forcing himself to meet the other man's steady gaze. "He belonged to me. You belong to your warlords and the other gods, Ares, but he was mine. At least let me have that."

"He belonged to both of us," Ares answered quietly, regret flashing in his eyes for a split second before he let go of Joxer. Almost immediately he moved forward again and Joxer thought maybe he'd changed his mind, but instead of grabbing hold of Joxer again he simply leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. A second later he was gone, leaving nothing where he'd been standing but a slight stirring in the air. Joxer pressed his fingers to his mouth and leaned heavily against the door, his shoulders slumping as he reminded himself to breathe. For a few perfect moments everything had been exactly the way he'd hoped for so long; he'd been in the arms of the one person that understood him, the one person that had loved him for exactly who he was with no expectations of more. Then just like that it was gone again, and he was left alone and wondering how to go on alone.

Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't change the truth, though; there was nothing he could do to change the fact that the man he'd thought he loved was gone forever. He'd never even existed, and the joke was on Joxer because for fifteen years he'd mourned the loss of something that had turned out to be a lie. He swallowed against a fresh surge of anger and pushed himself off the door, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves before he forced his legs to carry him back into Aphrodite's temple.

He found all of them exactly where he expected to, Cupid and Strife huddled together on a couch and trying not to look as though they'd been waiting for him to reappear. Even Aphrodite looked nervous, or at least what Joxer assumed was nervous for her. As soon as he walked into the room Cupid paled and clutched a little harder at Strife's hand, but Joxer ignored both of them and turned to look at the goddess he'd come to think of as a friend. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to go home now, Aphrodite."

"But you just got here, Joxie," she said, doing her best to sound cheerful even though he could tell by her expression that she could feel his heartache as well as Cupid could. "Don't tell me you're tired of us already."

"Please," he said quietly, working hard to keep his voice even long enough to make her see that he was serious. "I think it's best for everyone if I went home."

"Whatever Ares said, he didn't mean it." She stood up and slid her arm through his, glancing over at her son and nephew before she turned back to Joxer and lowered her voice. "He loses his temper when he's stressed, it doesn't mean anything. He's probably freaking out right now and trying to come up with a way to say he's sorry."

Joxer took a deep breath and gently shook his arm out of Aphrodite's grip, swallowing hard against the lump rising in his throat. " I don't belong here. Please, Aphrodite."

For a long moment she stared back at him, and for the first time since he found himself on Olympus he was afraid that he'd never be able to go back. It had never occurred to him that maybe there was no going back, and they just hadn't wanted to tell him until Ares got around to confessing the truth. He'd always known he was at their mercy, but he'd never felt more vulnerable than he did in that moment. Not all the times his father had beaten him as a child, not any of the times he'd tried and failed to be a warrior, not even when he'd made love for the first time.

Panic rose in his stomach, threatening to squeeze the last of his breath out of him. He knew it showed clearly on his face, but there was no way he could keep his fear out of his expression. Aphrodite noticed almost immediately, a heavy sigh escaping her throat as she reached up to cup his cheek. "I can't keep you here if you want to leave. But think about what you're doing, Joxie. He loves you."

"He doesn't even know me," Joxer answered, tearing his gaze away from hers. It hurt just to say the words out loud, and he found himself fighting back a fresh round of tears.

Finally Aphrodite relented, a frown marring her perfect features as she nodded and reached for him again. He didn't try to pull away when she slid an arm around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder, and he felt damp heat seeping through his shirt a second before the room blurred and then disappeared. When the universe solidified again he found himself in a quickly darkening clearing, his small bundle of belongings on the ground in front of him. There was a bedroll at his feet as well, but it wasn't the one he'd been using when Ares found him and took him back to Olympus. This one was thicker and made of a much finer material, and Joxer frowned to himself as he ran his hand along what could only be divine craftsmanship.

He sighed and said a quick prayer of thanks to Aphrodite, making a mental note to find someone that needed a soft place to sleep more than he did. He pushed his bag a little further up his shoulder and made his way across the clearing, stopping when he reached the small fire. He smiled in spite of his mood when he found himself suddenly draped in Gabrielle, her face pressed against his chest and her arms squeezing the air out of him.

"Joxer, where have you been? We were afraid they'd done something to you," Gabrielle said, lifting her head long enough to steal a quick glance at Xena. "Not that they're all bad, it's just that they're gods, and you've been gone for days and no one would tell us anything."

"Gabrielle, slow down," Xena said, standing up and carefully peeling the smaller woman off Joxer so he could breathe. When she was sure Joxer wasn't going to pass out from lack of oxygen she patted him on the back, her warm smile betraying her own relief at seeing him unharmed. "It's good to have you back, Joxer."

"Thanks," he said, ignoring two sets of raised eyebrows as he set his new bedroll down next to the fire. "I really missed you guys."

"So tell us what happened," Gabrielle said, tugging impatiently on his arm as they took seats next to the fire. "What were you doing on Olympus?"

His eyes clouded as he turned to stare into the fire, all his happiness at seeing his friends again flowing out of him when he remembered why he'd returned so suddenly. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather not talk about it."

"Not talk about it?" Gabrielle repeated, shock and disappointment clear in her voice. "Joxer, you can't be serious. You were on Olympus for over a week, you have to tell us _something_."

"Gabrielle," Xena said, sending the other woman a sharp glance that told her not to push him to talk about it. Joxer pretended not to notice when Gabrielle swallowed and nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he felt Xena's arm slide around his shoulders. "It's your business, Joxer. You can tell us when you're ready."

He nodded and glanced over at her, hoping she'd read his gratitude in his smile. There was no way he'd be able to answer her without breaking down, and if he started crying not even Xena would back down until he told her what was wrong. He didn't want to think about the past week, he didn't want to remember how comfortable he'd become on Olympus or how much he'd begun to look forward to his visits from Ares. He wasn't going to think about their last conversation, and he definitely was not going to relive that kiss. It was in the past, and that was where it was going to stay. It was just another thing he had to forget, and he was going to forget Ares and Timo if he had to die trying.


End file.
